Song Of The Caged Bird
by TheTrickyOwl
Summary: Victorian!AU. After their father's death, Fili and Kili are sent to reside in Oakenshield Manor, where they are to be under the watchful guidance and tutelage of their new guardian, the austere Lord Thorin Oakenshield. The man is haughty at best, but Kili is unwilling to be dismissed so easily, determined to prove himself to a man he soon grows to love. Thorin/Kili & Dwalin/Fili


Wind as viciously strong as it was mercilessly cold rattled against the outside of the horse-drawn carriage. Kili, youngest son of the Durin family, sat with his cheek pressed to the carriage wall, eyes as deep and rich as mahogany wood gazing outward at the passing world beyond the window. The velvet drapes had been pushed aside, allowing him a clear view of the mountains and woodland blanketed in a thick layer of glistening snow. The flurries danced in the breeze and settled in his unkempt dark hair, which he'd evidently tied back into a ponytail away from his face with a green silk ribbon.

They'd been travelling for days. Across the rolling hills, through town and city and village alike, they'd made their way from their home in the city of Ered Luin and headed east. After the unexpected death of their father only two months previous, their mother Dis had made the difficult decision to send her only sons eastbound to reside in the great Oakenshield Manor, where the Lord there would evidently become their guardian, guiding and nurturing them into the men their father would have taught them to become.

Fili, of course, had protested the journey instantly. As the eldest son of their family and heir to their fortune and land, he believed it his responsibility to care for the house and their mother now that their father had passed. Dis, on the other hand, would not have it.

"You're still young," she had argued over supper only nights ago. "You know nothing of the responsibility that weighed on your father's shoulders. Thorin will teach you. I can handle myself perfectly fine until then, thank you very much."

Fili, being of only twenty-three years, was outraged at the prospect of still being referred to as a child. He was the wisdom of the two of them, keen of mind and sharp of intellect. He was a master of fencing and riding, educated and gallant and charming. A true leader.

Kili looked up to him and respected him in more ways than could be explained.

But, he knew nothing about taking care of a wealthy family and household, which was why this Lord Thorin Oakenshield was now involved.

"What do you think he'll be like, Fee?" Kili asked as excitement bubbled wildly in his stomach.

Fili, who sat across from him in the carriage, didn't bother to lift his head at the question. He was busy, polishing the blade of his favourite knife with a satin cloth dipped in dark oil, while the blonde braids that made up the ends of his moustache swayed slowly with the carriages movement.

"Mother said he is a very successful man." Fili said. "But a stern teacher."

"All teachers are stern," Kili pointed out, his bangs whipping about in the wind that billowed inside.

Fili grunted, turning the knife's hilt over his fingers skilfully. Seemingly satisfied with his job on the blade, he slid the knife into the leather calve sheath he had hidden beneath one trouser leg. Dis hated when he wore the thing, regardless of whether it was hidden or not. She said it made him seem like a brute when, in reality, Fili could be rather gentle when he wanted to be.

"We should be arriving any moment, now," Fili said as he slipped his black wool gloves back on.

Kili was very much aware of that for, in the nearby distance, the shape of Oakenshield Manor could be seen through the dense wall of pine trees that surrounded the acres of property.

The monstrous manor house was built on a hill and surrounded by woodland and mountains, completely separate from the outside world. Its dark angular roof was capped in a thick blanket of snow, and dried ivy vines clung desperately to the red bricks that made up the exterior, crawling high and curling themselves around a balcony railing. Kili couldn't even count how many windows he spotted; tall and exquisite and trimmed in white. There must have been twelve chimneys in total, every one of them spewing plumes of dark smoke into the grey sky, promising the warmth of twelve crackling hearths to curl up next to inside. The place was more castle than house, with a stone fountain and acres of rolling land and garden surrounding it. Kili could almost imagine how it would look in the summer, with the grass a lush green, and the flowers in full bloom, and every window open to bring in the sweet breeze. Whoever lived here certainly had a taste for the grandest things.

The carriage passed through an iron gate and travelled up a cobblestone pathway to the front of the manor. Kili was practically hanging out of the little window, taking in every detail of the route. Normally, such behaviour in public would have been frowned upon, especially by his mother. But, she was not here, and Fili had his head poked out from behind the velvet curtains just as much as his younger sibling. Their hair danced in the winter wind until the carriage finally pulled to a complete stop.

Kili snatched up his velvet top hat and was out the door in a beat. The soles of his shoes skidded slightly across the ice-slicked cobblestone, but he managed to catch himself. Fili followed after, yanking his little brother around by the shoulder and turning him so that he could adjust his wind-mussed clothes. Gloved hands smoothed down the lapels of Kili's wool coat, tucked his blue silk cravat back in as he tutted and tisked like a fussy mother hen.

"You look a mess, Kee," Fili said. "Fix your hair. It came undone again."

"It always does that," Kili reached back and pulled free the loosened ribbon. His hair, long and the colour of fine chocolate, fell loosely around his shoulders. He much preferred it this way, but there was little that could be done. He tied it back tightly with the ribbon while Fili shifted his askew top hat into the proper position.

Fili, on the other hand, looked impeccable. His lush waves of blonde hair, even longer than Kili's, was drawn back into a neat ponytail, some tendrils tied together in thin braids much like the ones that made up his moustache. His top hat was tipped to one side, and the silk cravat around his neck was the same colour of steel grey as his eyes.

At the top of the grand stone steps that led to the front door, two figures appeared. One, a small elderly man with a tuft of wild white hair and an even whiter beard that nearly fell to the center of his chest, the end of it forked and curled upward. His eyes were kind under his white brows, and he wore a red velvet frock coat patterned in gold leaves over his round body.

Next to him was the biggest man Kili had ever laid eyes upon. Broad and brutal looking, his bald head shining in the fading afternoon light while the lower half of his face was practically covered by a wild black beard. The waistcoat he wore was stretched tightly across his wide chest, and the sleeves of the shirt he wore underneath were pushed up to his elbows, revealing monstrously strong arms. There was a white scar leading from his right brow and up over the curve of his skull.

Kili exchanged a look with his brother, and their eyes spoke the same question:

Which one of these men was their new guardian?

"Welcome, Masters Fili and Kili, to Oakenshield Manor," the old man exclaimed as he climbed down the steps to meet them with open arms. He clasped hands with them both, and his grip was surprisingly strong. "I am Balin."

"A pleasure," Fili nodded once before his gaze travelled over to the huge dark shadow at Balin's back. "And I do suppose you must be Thorin Oakenshield."

The brute snorted with a smirk. His voice was rough, and his accent thick. "Guess again, laddy."

"This would actually be my brother Dwalin," Balin pointed out. "We are long-time business associates and friends with Lord Oakenshield."

Kili frowned softly, a soft wave of curiosity fluttering within him. "And where is this Lord Oakenshield, if I may ask?"

"The Master of the house is out, I am afraid." Balin explained. "He asked that we meet you and have you settled in before his return. Now, come inside before you catch your death of cold. The servants will bring your things to your rooms."

Kili and Fili nodded, following the two older gentlemen up the steps and through a cherry wood door into the foyer beyond. Inside, the walls were decorated in dark violet wallpaper with gold leaf patterns, adorned with white crown moulding, white baseboards and castings around arched doorways, and a dark hardwood floor covered with a long flower-patterned rug that crawled up a magnificent staircase of twisting engraved wood. Kili's eyes took in all they could, every last detail of the room; from ceilings that soared above them, to the tall windows draped in velvet curtains, to the lushness of the rug beneath his feet, and the sparkle of a chandelier above his head.

Everything was impeccable; no painting hung askew or speckle of dust in sight.

He stepped further in, eyes catching on a monstrous oil portrait at the very top of the staircase. There, painted against a dark velvet background, was the image of a man in blue. His hair, long and dark, fell elegantly in waves across broad shoulders. His jaw was finely sculpted and covered in a thick layer of dark beard, his nose sharp and angular, and his brows were thick slashes above eyes so blue, they almost glowed against the darkness surrounding them. His thin lips were upturned slightly in the smallest of smiles, and the expression that stared back at them was nothing short of proud, intelligent, and utterly regal.

He was magnificent.

He belonged in this house.

"Is that…?" Kili heard Fili breathe beside him.

"Aye, lads, it is." Balin nodded. "That, my boys, is Thorin Oakenshield, Lord of this manor and these lands."

"My, he is beautiful," Kili whispered, more to himself than to the others.

Once a pair of servants arrived to take their snow-dusted hats and coats, Balin led them out of the foyer and deeper into the house, familiarizing them with every wing and room and corridor. In the west wing, they passed a deep red parlour that housed a fireplace as large as Dwalin, and a library with enough books to keep Fili occupied for months. A sun room for tea sat at the east side of the manor; along with a dining hall, piano room, and a study behind a locked door. The older gentleman was going on and on about the place, but Kili was hardly paying attention, fingertips roaming over the surface of polished furniture, the smoothness of silken cushions and sun-warmed velvet drapes, the sound of his shoes against marble flooring. He absorbed his surroundings curiously.

Fili, ever the gentleman, kept attentive, but his eyes would ever-so-often be cast behind them, where the looming shadow of Dwalin followed close.

When they pushed through a swinging door into the kitchen, they were greeted by a cloud of spiced smoke.

Balin coughed and swatted at the air with one hand. "Bofur! What have I said about smoking in the kitchen?"

The figure perched on the long wooden table laughed softly around the pipe held between his teeth. He had an almost comically long moustache and dark hair that he'd twisted into twin braids on either side of his head. There were onion skins and garlic gloves scattered on the tabletop around him.

"Ye said I shouldn't." Bofur stated, taking another puff from his pipe.

"And yet you continue?" Balin scolded.

Bofur jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "'Ave ye taken a step outside lately, Mister Balin? It's as cold as the seventh circle of Hell out there. Unless yer willin' ta pick me frozen arse up from the cobblestones, I'll be doin' my smokin' in here, thank ye. Besides, I have a window open."

"It's not helping much," Balin frowned.

"My kitchen. My problem."

Kili sniggered into the back of his hand.

"And who might these pretty young things be?" Bofur asked, catching Kili's eye and gesturing to the brothers with the end of his pipe.

"Fili and Kili," the brothers said in unison with a twin bow of heads.

"Ah, Dis' boys. I heard you were comin'." Bofur hopped off the table and offered them both a deep sweeping bow that had his braids swinging wildly. "Bofur, head chef for Lord Oakenshield. At yer service." He straightened and wiped his hands on flour-dusted pants. "You lads must be starved after the long journey here."

"Famished, actually," Fili said.

"Supper will be ready soon, but…" Bofur trailed off when a second figure came in through the outside door carrying a heaping armful of freshly chopped wood. It was a great plump man with a monstrous orange beard. "Ah! Bombur, there you are. Where'd ye stash the tea cakes and cheese?"

Bombur waddled across the kitchen to heave the pile of wood next to the stove as though it weighed about as much as an armful of feathered pillows. He dusted off his hands and motioned to a shelf behind Dwalin.

"Thank ye," Bofur took another puff of his pipe. "Mister Dwalin, if ye would be a kindly fellow and pass me the platter behind yer left shoulder?"

Dwalin grunted softly, doing as asked and handing over a tray of the most scrumptious looking cakes Kili had ever laid eyes upon. It was funny, really, the sight of such delicate looking china in the broad hands of such a man as Dwalin.

"These are Lord Oakenshield's favorite," Bofur stated as he platted the little cakes alongside a handful of red berries and a few slices of pungent cheese. "I usually only serve them for afternoon tea but, as yer the guests of honour, I'll let ye enjoy them first."

Kili eagerly took the plate offered to him. The little round cake was plump and moist, drizzled with a sweet frosting the colour of pale lavender and topped with a little dried flower. When he bit into it, he caught the subtle yet familiar taste of Earl Grey tea on his tongue.

"Good, yes?" Bofur grinned around his pipe.

Kili nodded, making contended noises around the mouthful of cake. He placed a slice of cheese on the last bite, and then stuffed them into his mouth at the same time.

"These are lovely," Fili said, swallowing down his own bite of cake.

"Better than lovely," Kili added.

Bofur's chest puffed proudly.

"Now, don't go completely spoiling their appetites, now," Balin tsked and ushered the boys out of the kitchen. "Come, lads. Let's get you settled in your rooms."

Kili followed them out, but turned just in time to see Bofur toss one more cake across the kitchen at him. He caught it, grinning in thanks, and held it behind his back for the remainder of the tour.

* * *

It was the grandest bedroom Kili had ever seen.

Green was the color strewn throughout the place, in the cushions and the bedding and the drapery. The images of vinery crept up the pale olive wallpaper, the pattern repeating itself in the embroideries on the lush velvet throw covering the four-poster bed. The window drapes were long enough to touch the floor, and drawn back to allow the light from the setting sun to paint the rug in spears of orange. Kili strolled around the place, testing out the softness of the velvet armchairs set beside the hearth, peering inside the chest of drawers and oak wardrobe as if expecting to find some delicious secret hidden there.

It was marvellous. His bedroom at home was not nearly as big as this and, oh, not nearly as tidy. The servants had already brought in his bags and put away his clothing and shoes. It would only be a matter of time before nearly half of his wardrobe was scattered around the floor.

He changed into more appropriate attire for dinner, and was just buttoning up his waistcoat when the bedroom door opened. Fili stepped inside, already dressed in a sharply cut pinstriped brown waistcoat and high-waisted brushed cotton trousers. The golden chain of a pocket watch swayed with his movements.

"Your bedroom is bigger than mine, Kee," Fili frowned as he looked about, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. "Don't know how the servants could have possibly gotten that mixed up. I'll have to see they correct their mistake."

"Don't you dare! I've already settled in!" Kili gaped at his brother through the mirror reflection, hands pausing on the last button of his waistcoat.

Fili chuckled. "Ease yourself. I was merely jesting."

"It was not funny, Fee."

"Maybe not to you."

While Fili leaned on the doorframe to wait, Kili resumed dressing. He was wearing red tonight; dark red waistcoat, red cravat tied high on his throat, red ribbon in his hair. His trousers were dark and the all of the buttons were gold. It was his mother's favourite outfit, and one Kili knew he had to wear if he wanted to make a proper first impression.

They made for the dining hall as the grandfather clock in the parlour chimed six. What awaited them there was one of the grandest feasts Kili had ever laid eyes upon. A long mahogany table that could seat a good ten, no, twelve people, stood before a roaring hearth. And upon it lay a supper of roasted pheasant with blackberry sauce, potatoes with rosemary and garlic, ham slow cooked with apples and white wine, stewed carrots, and little walnut cakes with honey.

The scent of it all had Kili's mouth watering.

"My God, look at it all, Fee…" he whispered to his brother as they approached.

Balin and Dwalin were already waiting for them, sipping at glasses of red wine as flurries of snow fell delicately beyond the tall windows.

"Ah, boys," Balin greeted as he turned. "All settled in, then?"

"Aye, we are. Thank you." Fili nodded, taking the glass of wine Dwalin offered him. "The Lord Oakenshield? Is he…?"

"He's in." Dwalin grunted. "He'll be down momentarily."

Kili rocked back on his heels, and sipped at the wine he'd been given. It was good strong stuff with a sweet aftertaste that settled on the back of his tongue. He stepped around the feast, running fingers along the back of the chair at the head of the table where the Lord would sit.

He was thinking of the great painting at the top of the stairs when the sound of approaching footfalls alerted him, and a figure appeared in the doorway to the dining hall. Kili turned then, and was struck with what he beheld.

This man was nothing like the one in the painting.

Truly, yes, it was the same man indeed. And yet, so different. He was taller than Kili expected, broad of shoulder and chest, almost matching Dwalin in size. His hair was longer than in the portrait, dark, with the beginnings of silver running through the waved strands like moonlight. When he walked, his bootfalls sounded off against the rich marble flooring like hammer strikes, commanding attention. The frock coat he wore was made of embroidered blue velvet and fastened high on his throat with frilled collar and broach.

And his eyes…

Bluer than even the painting depicted, oozing intelligence. But they were cold. He looked about the room briefly before settling his gaze on Kili, who still had a hand placed on the back of his chair. There was no emotion in that look; naught but a distance and darkness that could only be brought forth by hardship, and it sent a fierce chill running right down the boy's spine. He was much older than the man depicted in the painting, perhaps just past his fortieth year. His brow had creases upon it made only by scowling, and he lifted his chin, staring down at Kili from beneath long, dark lashes.

The boy dropped his head instantly and attempted to play it off as a bow, murmuring a soft "My Lord."

There was a long and viciously uncomfortable period of silence.

Kili swallowed hard and stared at his boots which, he only then realized, he'd forgotten to shine.

It was Balin who spoke first. "My Lord Oakenshield, these are Lady Dis' boys."

"I know who they are," The Lord's voice was like a rumble of thunder, and as deep and dark as the sea.

After a beat, Kili risked lifting his gaze. The Lord Oakenshield was still staring at him.

"Is… is something wrong, m'Lord?" he asked.

It was then that the Lord leaned in, voice lowering but still managing to carry that undeniable power. Their noses were nearly brushing. Kili felt his stomach knot up.

"You're in my way, boy."

Fili's hands landed on his shoulders and pulled him backwards before he had a moment to react. Kili stumbled gracelessly until he collided with the solidity of his elder brother's chest. He watched, mouth gone dry, as Lord Oakenshield dragged back his chair and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Well, he seems charming," he heard Fili say under his breath.

They gathered around the table for supper, Fili and Kili on Lord Oakenshield's left, while Balin and Dwalin sat to his right. While the fire crackled and popped in the hearth, they dined in utter uncomfortable silence. The ham was succulent on Kili's tongue, and the potatoes were hot and spiced just right. He chewed thoughtfully, listening to the sound of their silverware scraping against the china.

Only when the plates were nearly cleaned did the Lord Oakenshield speak. "Which one of you is the eldest?"

Fili sat up straighter, dabbing his lips clean. "It is I, my Lord. By five years."

The Lord nodded, swallowing down a mouthful of wine. "Very well. You will begin your lessons tomorrow."

"Lessons, m'Lord?" Fili inquired.

"Aye. After the unfortunate passing of your father, it is up to me, now, to teach you how to take upon the family name and responsibilities that come with being the head of a household. You will go through extensive lessons in English, history, geography, business, and etiquette. You will continue with the riding and fencing you used to do back home, and I will be sure to shape you into the proper young man worthy of carrying your father's title by the time spring arrives."

It all sounded well and good, but Kili could not help but notice something wrong.

"And me, my Lord?" he asked. "What about me?"

The Lord's eyes found Kili's, that haughty gaze causing the boy to shrink back in his chair slightly.

"You are in no need of lessons," Lord Oakenshield said dismissively. "You are the second born son, therefore you carry no titles, no land, and no responsibilities to your name."

Kili frowned deeply. "Beg pardon my Lord, but I don't think you're correct. I am my father's son just as much as Fili is. His house and his wealth belong to me just as much as it belongs to my brother."

"Kee…" Fili hushed, setting his hand overtop his brother's.

"Not so." Lord Oakenshield said, folding his broad hands together on the delicate tablecloth. "When the head of the household dies, everything he possesses passes onto his eldest son. If he has no sons, they pass onto the husbands of his daughters. In this case, Fili is the eldest son, and these duties are his and his alone."

Kili shot up from his chair so quickly, it tumbled backwards and landed on the floor with a loud crack that sounded off the walls. The entire table became as silent as death itself, every set of eyes upon the boy.

"Then why was I brought here?!" Kili tried to keep from raising his voice. God above, did he try, but he could feel his very hackles rising, could feel himself bristle with every second that passed with the cool, unfeeling gaze of the Lord fixed on him. "If Fili is the important one here, why did I come along?"

"Your mother stated that you and your brother do not work well when you are apart for too long," Lord Oakenshield said. "She insisted you accompany Fili. I had to oblige."

"Oblige." The word felt like poison on the boy's tongue. "You don't even want me here," Kili ignored the feel of his brother attempting to calm him by rubbing the small of his back. "I'm worthless in your eyes, aren't I? The second born son with no titles and no claim to wealth, so quick to dismiss." He flattened his palms on the table and leaned in, hissing. "I am my father's son, and let it be known, my Lord, that I was important in his eyes. I don't require your approval, nor do I seek it."

Silence followed the last of Kili's words, his eyes locked firmly with those of Lord Oakenshield's. He was breathing hard though his nose, heartbeat sounding off in his head like war drums. The tension practically made the air crackle between them.

Lord Oakenshield's voice dropped to a growl that made the boy's stomach drop. "And let it be known, _boy_, that while you are under my roof, you will speak to me with respect, if you can manage it."

Kili straightened. "I respect no man that does not respect me."

With that, he turned on his heel and made to leave, but stopped in the doorway to turn and offer a bow in Lord Oakenshield's direction.

"_My Lord_," he spat, before swiftly exiting.

Kili walked at a steady pace, angered footsteps muffled by the lush carpet beneath his stomping feet. He passed rooms where flickering lamplight illuminated vacant furnishings, the house empty and dark and quiet. What was first seen as a grand and magnificent structure in Kili's eyes was now nothing more than the cold, lonely husk of a house that perfectly suited the Lord that resided inside.

He hated Lord Oakenshield. Absolutely hated him.

By the time Kili reached the grand staircase, there was a second set of footfalls following him, before a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Kili, wait!" It was his brother, flushed and breathless from having sprinted after him. He turned Kili to face him. "What on earth happened back there?"

"As if you did not see!" Kili huffed, pacing circles around his brother. "That man dismissed me as though I was nothing to him! Second born son with no titles… Outrageous! Father never treated me as such back home, just because you were born first. We were always equals you and I. Always!"

"Kee…" Fili sighed in exasperation, reaching out to stop his excessive stomping around. He ran tender fingers through the boy's loose hair. Kili only then noticed that, in his rage, the ribbon that had tied it all back must have slipped free. "You had every right to be upset by what was said, but are you sure you expressed yourself in the most mature way?"

"I held myself back from throwing a punch. I'd say that was quite mature."

Fili chuckled softly, drawing Kili close until their brows pressed together. They held each other that way for some time, Kili calming as the piercing eyes of Lord Oakenshield watched them from the oil painting above.

"You do realize you have to apologize?" Fili whispered.

Kili pressed his lips together in a thin line, gaze turning upward to stare at the portrait. "I'll do something better."

"And what is that?"

"Prove him wrong."

* * *

Morning arrived and, with it, came the melodious song of cardinals in the pine trees outside. Thorin sat alone in his study, dining on a small breakfast of poached salmon and mint with blueberry scones and tea while he listened to the birdsong through the gap in the open window. Next to him, the grandfather clock ticked ten minutes to eight where it stood betwixt two grand mahogany bookshelves overflowing with dusty tomes.

His long, heavy hair was drawn back into a low ponytail, and a pair of spectacles sat perched on the bridge of his nose while he read through a book of poetry to pass the time. Every so often, his eyes would flick up to the face of the clock. Fili was due to start his lessons at eight o'clock sharp.

Thorin sighed, easing into the plush, velvet softness of his desk chair, back protesting and aching from an uneasy night's rest. He reached back and rubbed at the base of his skull, feeling the tension beneath his fingertips. Sleep eluded him more often than not. Such was his life as of late, since his great loss. Perhaps the grievers and the mourners did not surrender to rest when they know those they once loved would never awaken from their own slumber. To be plundered in the midst of sleep with dreams and memories of happier times felt almost cruel to Thorin.

It was bad enough he had the constant reminder of his loss hanging directly across from his desk in the form of a grand oil portrait. One he refused to take down, despite how often Dwalin and Balin would beg him to.

There came a knock upon the door.

"Come in," Thorin called, clapping the cover of his book shut. His eyes wandered over to the clock. Two minutes to eight. The boy was early.

One of the two grand doors to the study creaked open, and in stepped the eldest son of the Durin family. Fili greeted him with a smile and deep bow, golden hair drawn back pristinely, dressed simply but sharply in dark trousers and a loose and light white shirt.

"Good morning, my Lord," Fili smiled, though there was exhaustion in his eyes. Days of travelling accompanied by the first night in an unfamiliar bed would do that.

"And to you," Thorin gestured to one of the velvet chairs across from his desk. "Please, sit."

Fili did as bade, sweeping across the room to settle in the offered seat.

"Have you eaten?" Thorin asked before sipping at his quickly cooling cup of tea.

"Yes, my Lord. Though, not very well I am afraid. I rushed myself. I did not want to be late for my first lesson."

"You're eager to please." Thorin slid over the plate of warm blueberry scones, and watched as the boy took one. "It's a good sign in a student."

"I've a fear of disappointing others." Fili stated. "I want nothing more than to do well. If such responsibilities lay upon my shoulders, as you said last night, then I do not want to return home unprepared."

Thorin nodded, sliding his spectacles off of his face. "Tell me… You seem to be a very well mannered young man. Attractive, educated, and from a wealthy family no less. Do you have a young lady back home that you are in the midst of courting?"

Fili seemed to have slight difficulty swallowing down his bite of scone. He coughed into his sleeve. "N-no… No, my Lord."

"Oh?" Thorin quirked a brow curiously. "Why not?"

"None have caught my eye as of yet." Fili shrugged, tucking back a stray tendril of blonde hair over his shoulder. "If I may ask, are you married?"

Thorin shook his head, leaning back in his chair once more. "No, I never took a bride. Never found the time, nor the person to be honest with you." He looked down at the spectacles in his hand, watching as the sunlight glinted off of the lenses. "It is one of my deepest regrets."

It was then that the doors to the study swung open without warning. Thorin's head snapped up, Fili wheeled around, both watching as Kili strode into the room. He was crunching down on an apple.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, moving to sit in the chair next to his brother.

Thorin's brows furrowed at the lad, sprawled so arrogantly before him, dark hair flowing loosely across broad shoulders. "Is there a particular reason as to why you're here?"

Kili took another bite of apple before gesturing around the room. "I'm here for today's lesson."

Thorin exchanged a look with Fili, who oddly did not look very surprised at the sudden intrusion.

"As stated last night," Thorin did his very best to keep his voice calm. "These lessons are for the eldest son of your family. He holds the—"

"The titles, the wealth, the responsibilities. Yes, yes, I know." Kili interrupted with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "And, to be completely honest with you, my Lord, I don't care."

"_I beg your pardon_?"

The boy smiled, juice from the apple glinting off of his full lips. "I'm staying for the lesson. And I'm attending the one tomorrow, and the ones after that. You are going to tutor us both."

Thorin cocked his jaw. "Am I?"

"Yes."

It was Fili who spoke that last word, and Thorin's accusing gaze fell upon him. The blonde brushed the crumbs from the scone he'd just eaten from his pant leg, before easing back into his chair with an arrogance not unlike his young sibling.

"Kili has as much right to learn about these things as I. Our father would have wanted it this way, so it will stay this way. You either teach us both, my Lord, or you teach neither. If you still stand by what you believe, then we will pack our things and return home. It is your choice."

"And what will your dear mother say when she learns of you refusing my help?" Thorin asked coolly.

Kili shrugged. "We're not the ones refusing, my Lord. You are. She'll find us another teacher."

Thorin scrutinized the two young men seated on the other side of his broad, mahogany wood desk, his fingertips tapping at the arm of his chair. He gestured between them with his spectacles.

"This ambush; planned?"

They nodded once in unison, twin smirks gracing their young, handsome faces.

"Well played, I must say." Thorin sighed deeply, scratching at his bearded jaw. "Very well. I will tutor you both."

He allowed the boys a few moments to relish in their little accomplishment. Rising from his chair, Thorin moved over to one of his bookshelves, fingertip running along the dusty spines until he found exactly what he was searching for. He pulled two monstrous tomes from their place, thickly bound in green leather. Moving slowly, he plopped one book onto each of the boy's laps, listening to their sudden grunts at the weight hitting them.

"What… on earth… are these?" Kili asked, lifting his book in both hands.

"What do they look like, young Master Kili?" Thorin asked, returning to the shelves to fish for more books. These ones, thinner and smaller, were bound in red with sharp gold lettering along their spines.

Kili frowned. "Well, they're books…"

"_Very good_."

The red suddenly hitting the boy's ears indicated just as Thorin intended: he was getting angry. Luckily, the lad held his tongue, and instead watched as his older brother leafed through the tome's pages.

"World History?" Fili asked. "That's our lesson for today?"

"Oh no, no. We're studying English today." Thorin said pleasantly, handing over the two little red books he had just retrieved. "Those History books are your homework."

"Homework, my Lord?" Fili stared wide-eyed up at him.

Thorin nodded, picking up his spectacles and setting them on the bridge of his nose once more. "You are to have your History books read and memorized, cover to cover, by the end of this week. Bright and early next Monday morning, I have every intention to test you both on what you have learned."

"How are we supposed to read these massive things in between lessons, fencing, supper and sleep?" Kili gawked.

Thorin smiled. "You'll have to figure that out, now won't you?"

The glare Thorin received from Kili was nothing short of vicious. Hatred and frustration flickered in those wide and lovely brown eyes, but they were accompanied by a fierce determination Thorin was all too familiar in seeing. He would not back down.

Two could play at this game.

"If you would both please set your History books aside and open your English books to the first page." Thorin lifted his own copy of the little red book, unable to repress his own victorious smirk at the huffs and sighs coming from the boys. "Chapter one…"


End file.
